


Of Pumpkins and Pictographs

by prunesquallormd



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prunesquallormd/pseuds/prunesquallormd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson's attempts at blackmail go catastrophically awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Pumpkins and Pictographs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perverbially](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perverbially/gifts).



> This is possibly the filthiest thing I've ever written, so if you know me IRL, standard request applies: don't read, please, or if you must, don't tell me :).

_**Fic: Of Pumpkins and Pictographs (Harry Potter - Ginny/Pansy/Luna - NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Of Pumpkins and Pictographs

 **Fandom:** Harry Potter  
 **Pairing(s):** Ginny/Luna/Pansy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** Pansy Parkinson's attempts at blackmail go catastrophically awry.  
 **Word count:** ~6700  
 **Warnings:** Hints at noncon, but they don't amount to anything.  
 **Notes:** This is possibly the filthiest thing I've ever written, so if you know me IRL, standard request applies: don't read, please, or if you must, don't tell me :).

Huge thanks to my fabulous beta, the very lovely [](http://flister.livejournal.com/profile)[**flister**](http://flister.livejournal.com/).

This is a pressie for [](http://perverbially.livejournal.com/profile)[**perverbially**](http://perverbially.livejournal.com/) , whom I love to bits ♥

Disclaimer: Obviously all the characters and pretty much everything else belong to JK Rowling. This is just for fun!

  
Pansy Parkinson smirked as her eyes followed the pumpkin-headed figure from the Great Hall. The Halloween feast was in full swing, and since the moment Pansy had spotted that bitch Weasley making her excuses to Potter and his cronies and slipping away, she'd had her eyes fixed on her little girlfriend's ridiculous costume. At least Weasley's – some sort of sprite, as far as Pansy could figure, all gauze and faux-silk – made the most of her meagre looks. Although why she hadn't taken the opportunity to do something about that awful ginger mop of hers Pansy had no clue. At least Luna's costume covered her face.

"Pansy," Draco said, sounding petulant, "Pansy, am I talking to myself now? Honestly, if you're going to have a conversation, have the decency to take notice."

Pansy turned back to Draco and looked him up and down coolly. Much like herself, he considered the idea of fancy dress to be common in the extreme, and he was having none of it. He looked striking as ever in a sharply cut black suit, Slytherin black and silver playing intriguing counterpoints: antique silver cufflinks and collar-studs; black shirt, silver tie. His white-blond hair was slicked back and he was looking at Pansy, exasperation in his face. Pleasing though she found the sight of him, Pansy's mind was otherwise engaged.

"Not now, Draco," she replied, her voice a lazy drawl. "Come find me later, perhaps. I might make it worth your while."

Even as Draco's eyebrows climbed towards his high forehead, Pansy was turning away from him, walking briskly towards the door. Her heels clipped sharply on the floor, clearly audible even over the din of the feast.

Lovegood and Weasley thought they were so clever, _so_ discreet. She had known what they were up to for months now. Pansy loved the power she held over them, unaware of it as they were. Nothing was so intoxicating to her as having other people's secrets in the palm of her hand. She laid them down, waiting for them to age, to mature; waiting for that moment when their decanting would cause the most damage. It wouldn't be long now. A little more evidence was all that she required, and then she would be able to drink her fill.

She'd known they wouldn't be able to pass up the opportunity. The whole school was at the feast; well, the whole school less the many other couples who couldn't resist the lure of all of Hogwarts's little nooks and crannies. Pansy suppressed a smirk, and an accompanying shudder, as she pictured exactly what nooks and crannies Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood would be exploring any time now. Ugh, disgusting.  
***  
The door to the library was ajar, but that wasn't Pansy's destination. The tracing spell she'd placed on Luna's pumpkin-head costume led her past it, onwards and upwards, all the way to the infirmary. A little off the main ward a number of private rooms could be seen, and Pansy felt a thrill of triumph as a breathless giggle emerged from behind the door closest to her.

She had them.

She paused a moment, just long enough to carefully place her shoes (removed near the library and carried ever since) by the door and to pull out a tiny camera and her wand from her clutch. Holding her breath, her heart racing, she grasped at the door handle and pushed, agonisingly slowly.

It was perfect, more so than Pansy had ever imagined. Luna's mask rocked on the floor, hastily cast aside. Its most recent occupant was pressed hard against the wall, head back, eyes closed, a hitch in her breath that clearly had a lot to do with the way Ginny was stroking and licking her bare chest. Ginny's own costume (already far flimsier than Luna's) was mostly bunched up around her midriff. Her underwear was red.

Pansy hardly moved. A flick of her wrist and a muttered phrase was all she required, and Ginny and Luna were transfixed, their only movements the rapid rise and fall of their chests, the only sound their laboured breathing. A further flick of Pansy's wand and Luna was able to open her eyes. Pansy liked to see the reflection of her own victories.

She took a moment to put her shoes back on and stepped across the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her. She looked stunning as she approached her victims, of that much she could be sure. Her dress – black, strapless, silk, stopping just above the knees – probably cost more than Weasley's father earned in a month.

"Well, well, well. What could we possibly have here?" She struggled to keep her voice cool and menacing. All she really wanted to do was jump and clap her hands at the joy of it all. She stared hard at Ginny – the pale, freckled skin of her back, her long smooth legs, the roundness of her bum, hardly covered by a wisp of red chiffon – wishing she could see the fear in her eyes. Triumph throbbed in her belly. Pansy shivered, despite the heat surging through her.

"Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, all _in flagrante_. Caught red-handed, hey, Weasley? Or should that be red-knickered?" She smirked at her own cleverness.  
She stepped to the side a little, clicked off a few shots, and took a few moments to admire her handiwork.

"Well, don't you look pretty together? I'm sure I know a few boys who'd just love copies of these. Those brothers of yours, for one," she said, her voice harsh and sneering. "How do you think they'll react when they discover that their beloved little sister's a fucking dyke? Oh, and I'm sure the great Harry Potter will be just overjoyed to find out his oh-so-perfect girlfriend is fucking Loony Lovegood behind his back."

The flush of her triumph surged through her, setting off an ache in her cunt that she would clearly have to see to later. Sorry to say, Draco couldn't be relied on for that.

She couldn't resist the urge to gloat further though, and anyway, it was a shame not to get at least a few more varied shots. Such fun, to pose them like life-sized dolls.

Pansy approached slowly, deliberately, the click of her heels mapping her progress. The girls before her were motionless and disappointingly silent. She rather wished that her charm had been less effective, would have enjoyed nothing more than hearing the moaned complaints of her toys. But still, there was so much more to enjoy...

She paused a step before the two, enjoying the contrast of Ginny's hair against the skin of Luna's chest, the way a nipple peeked out from between thumb and finger. What to do? What to do? So many possibilities. Oh, the games she could play. It was all _quite_ bracing.

Her breath came fast as she reached out both hands to grasp at the curve of Ginny's hip, the swell of her bum. She licked her lips, all anticipation...

Pansy's hands met _nothing_. Where there should have been warm, soft flesh, all she found was empty air. She stumbled forward, raising a hand to steady herself against the wall. Her hands had gone straight through the two girls without the faintest whisper of sound or sensation. Briefly shocked, Pansy's brain slowed to a crawl. She couldn't process what had just happened. It took a tiny handful of seconds to put the pieces together. Too late. Far too late.

“Petrificus Totalus!” It was Ginny's voice. From behind her. Merlin, how could she have been so stupid?

Pansy felt a chill surge through her muscles, trapping her, leaving her immobile, helpless, at the mercy of –

“Pansy, Pansy, Pansy,” Ginny said, a laughing sing-song. “Pansy Parkinson. What _are_ we going to do with you? Here we are, minding our own business, trying our hardest not to hurt anyone, and you will insist on putting your nose where it's not welcome.” There was a slight harshness in her voice as she finished, but it evaporated almost instantly.

Pansy tensed inwardly at the padding of two pairs of softly-shod feet. When Ginny spoke again, Pansy could almost feel her breath on her ear, she was so close.

“You Slytherins always think you're so much more cunning than the rest of us. It kinda makes you careless. You might want to bear that in mind next time.” There was a pause, and then, “Lu, what do you think we should do with her? How do we persuade her that we're just not interesting enough to be bothering about? “

A giggle betrayed Luna's position, probably less than a foot to Pansy's right.

“Well, she does find us fascinating. Don't you, Pansy?” Where there was an edge to Ginny's voice, Luna's was unchanged, as soft and dreamy as ever. If anything, that scared Pansy all the more. “And she obviously just wants some pictures, don't you? To keep you company when Draco's being all _Draco_? Maybe if we give you some, you'll leave us alone?”

Ginny laughed. Pansy couldn't tell what _that_ signified, but she knew that it didn't bode well.

“Er, Lu? We want her not to have any hard evidence, remember? Kinda the point of all this, yes?”

Pansy strained to hear Luna's reply, clearly whispered directly into Ginny's ear. She swore silently to herself, once more cursing her own stupidity. She stared, transfixed, at the wall as Ginny replied with another laugh. “Luna Lovegood, I'm shocked! That's just evil. Perfect, but still evil.” She damn near _cackled_. Pansy's heart sank even further, and she hadn't even thought that was possible.

Luna giggled in response, “But she'd be so happy. It would be like a present. She could treasure it forever.” Pansy fought to find malice in Luna's tone, but there was none. Pansy was not reassured.

“Well, I really hadn't thought of it like that.” Ginny's voice was closer now, directly behind Pansy and hardly more than a whisper. “But, you know, I think you're right. She would be happy. Wouldn't you, Parkinson? Oh, don't think we haven't seen you watching us. You just can't stay away, can you?” Ginny's mouth was at her ear now, so close that her lips grazed it as she spoke. “Do you hate us? Or is that just what you tell yourself because you can't stand the truth?”

And then. And then … Pansy couldn't place the sensation at first, it was so light, just the gentlest ghost of a touch. The anger and fear that overwhelmed her drowned it out, rendering it simply an irritation. So it was only when she felt a matching sensation – on her neck, just below her right ear – that she _knew_. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were kissing her, nuzzling her neck like she'd seen them do to each other, so many times, all those times when she'd thought they hadn't known that she was watching. She reached deep inside herself, desperately fighting the magical bonds that held her, fighting more desperately to ignore the warmth in her belly and the dampness in her knickers.

Why had she felt the need to come here? Why hadn't she just resigned herself to another interminable evening with Draco, rounded off, most likely, with another joyless, utterly unfulfilling fuck?

Ah, that was it, wasn't it? If she hated these girls, at least it was an emotion. It warmed her and quickened her heart; it made her feel _alive_.

Pansy would have cried out in shock at the hands that gripped her arms, firm but gentle, and turned her to face her tormentors. She would have screamed but she couldn't, and the feeling passed quickly as she looked into Ginny's eyes. There was no anger there, no hatred or even dislike. She simply looked, what was it? Quizzical? Curious? Just the slightest bit mischievous? Ginny's eye's drifted down to Pansy's lips, her teeth gently nipping at her own.

“Ask us to stop.” Pansy hadn't expected Ginny to say anything at all, and certainly not that. “That's all you need to do. Prove that you don't want this. Just ask us to stop and we will. Do you think you can do that, Parkinson?”

Pansy wanted to laugh at it for the sick joke it was. But she couldn't laugh, and she certainly couldn't speak. Pansy watched as Ginny's mouth moved, bit by bit, closer to her own. Her tongue flickered, moistening it, and she smiled. It wasn't a sneer, there was nothing smug about it. It was an honest to goodness _smile_. And, Merlin help her, she looked beautiful. Pansy was starting to recognise the tickle in her belly for what it was. Oh gods, how had she got herself into this?

Ginny paused, her lips the smallest distance from Pansy's own, her breath warm on her skin, the smile still playing round her mouth. Pansy _groaned_. And with that, the warmth flowed back into her limbs, and, as it returned, her balance fled. She stumbled forward, raising her arms to cling to Ginny. Her groan became a curse.

“What's the matter, Parkinson? Did you really think that we'd take advantage of you when you were all helpless? Where's the fun in that?” Ginny's voice was a whisper, her lips were moving against Pansy's cheek, and it was all Pansy could do to remain standing. She still clung to Ginny, the length of her body moulded to the other girl, breast to breast, belly to belly. Weasley 's bare thigh was between Pansy's leg, unmoving, the slightest pressure against her cunt. She couldn't deny it now, even – especially – to herself. Her knickers were soaked through, and the slightest gasp against her cheek made it clear that Ginny had finally registered the fact.

So, was that how it was? Well, then.

Pansy shifted her hands so that she could pull Ginny even closer. Her left was between Ginny's shoulder blades, her right just above the curve of her arse. And finally, oh _finally_ , she allowed herself to acknowledge, to accept. Pansy thrust her hips forward, hard against Ginny's thigh, moaning softly at the delicious sensations the movement engendered.

“Oh fuck off, Weasley, you self righteous bitch,” Pansy muttered, spinning herself around with Ginny in her arms so that she could back her hard against the wall. “What? You think that just cos you're a fucking Gryffindor you're _above_ taking advantage? Oh, yeah, all so fucking honourable, that's you isn't it? Well, fuck you.”

The harshness of her words were reflected in her actions as she twisted her head to catch Ginny's lip with her own. Ginny's eyes widened and she whimpered slightly, clearly shocked by the suddenness of Pansy's response. She met the kiss enthusiastically though, and made barely a sound when Pansy nipped sharply at her lower lip.

Pansy had forgotten something in her sudden and overwhelming distraction, though, something that shifted the balance fundamentally against her. Even as it seemed as if she and Ginny were battling to consume each other, even as Ginny met the ever more demanding thrusts of Pansy's hips with a firm, rhythmic upward pressure of her thigh, Pansy felt two small hands trace their way up her sides, round and forward until they rested on her ribcage. Another body (Luna, how had she forgotten about Luna?) pressed against her, lips caressing the curve of her neck.

Luna's lips ceased their work for a moment to allow her to speak. Pansy almost – but only _almost_ – laughed at how strange her words sounded as she said, “You have beautiful breasts. May I play with them?”

Oh, sweet Merlin, _yes_. She wanted to say it, but her mouth was entirely occupied, and her hands were far too busy ensuring that Ginny didn't so much as think of extricating herself. Luna clearly wasn't going to do anything without Pansy's say-so though. She seemed perfectly happy to just nuzzle at her neck, humming contentedly to herself. Ginny had recovered from the shock of the unexpected assault on her mouth, it seemed, and was taking everything in her stride. She nipped playfully at Pansy's lower lip, and was that a chuckle, low in her throat? She forced her thigh upwards once more, ripping a gasp from Pansy's own throat. Pansy's cunt was throbbing now. She could feel her own heat slicking a path on the softness of Ginny's skin. She knew that her knickers – never worn before, part of a favourite set – were a sodden mess. And still Luna's hands weren't moving, trapped between Ginny's body and Pansy's own, utterly useless.

Pansy ripped her mouth from Ginny's, almost _snarling_ , “Fuck's sake, Loony, do you need a written invitation or what? Merlin's fucking beard, what sort of a fucking lesbian _are_ you?”

Ah, yes. That seemed to do the trick. Luna's giggle against her neck was breathy, and of a higher pitch than usual. She was still licking and nipping but _finally_ her hands were doing something useful. They slid upwards, and _now_ they were moving over Pansy's breasts, cupping them, squeezing carefully. Luna's palms brushing Pansy's hardened nipples, even through layers of silk and lace, set off yet another flash of sensation, so different to the one between her legs but complementing it, intensifying it somehow, dragging a moan from her lips. Pansy dropped her face blindly into the crook of Ginny's neck. She couldn't think straight; she'd never been so overwhelmed, or felt so wanted. Pressed between the bodies of two girls she hated – who should hate her with equal venom – she had never felt so _safe_.

She rolled her hips, pressing her cunt again and again against Ginny's thigh. It was still now, only Ginny's hands moved, the left one sliding to rest at the back of Pansy's neck, entwining in the short hair there, the other further up, stroking her. Pansy heard soft “shushing” noises through the haze of her desire, almost as though Ginny were soothing a frightened child. The bizarreness of the sound was forgotten in a moment though as she felt another hand (just as gentle, far more adventurous) pull at her dress. Luna's fingers were, apparently, hooked over the tops of the cups of her bra as well. Without straps, little more than a wish and a charm had been protecting her dignity all evening, and they were no match for Luna's eager fingers.

Pansy whimpered then as Luna brushed her palms hard over her nipples. It was almost painful, and yet Pansy couldn't have wanted it to stop for the world. She was trying hard to push herself down onto Ginny's leg – hoping with her thrusts to persuade the stupid girl to actually _move_ and not just stand there – and at the same time communicate to Luna that _yes_ , that was exactly what she should be doing. More, please, _more_ , just … Oh fuck.

Luna had taken hold of both of Pansy's nipples between thumb and index finger and rolled them extraordinarily gently for a few seconds – a mere ghosting that set off a tingling that found a mirror deep in her belly – and then squeezed, hard.

She'd never really known what all the fuss was about. Oh, she liked sex well enough. Kissing was nice, and when Draco could be bothered (and that was rarely) he had soft, considerate hands that caressed her wonderfully, swirled teasing patterns around her navel and made her nipples beg for just that little bit more attention than he was ever willing to give them. For the rest though, the few minutes of not entirely comfortable thrusting, his skinny, angular body poised above her, eyes closed, face a frown of concentration, culminating in a thoroughly unattractive grimace – and then the _mess_ – well it was all just a bit “so what?” really. She'd always been too proud to ask, to _talk_ about it with anyone. How could she have known? How could she ever have suspected _this_?

It wasn't a wave, or a pulse, or a throb, or a flowing heat; it was none of these, and yet all of them, and so many other things she didn't have words for. It radiated outwards from her nipples and her cunt, every muscle tightening, down to her toes, which curled in shoes that really weren't designed to allow it. Her lungs seemed for a moment to actually stop working, which almost certainly didn't account for her light-headedness, or the flashes behind her eyes either, and it certainly had nothing to do with that wave of sheer _joy_.

A few moments later her entire body relaxed. Pansy slumped even harder against Ginny and felt Luna's embrace tighten, even as her fingers on her nipples became more insistent, and even as Ginny _finally_ decided to move once more. She pressed upward, firm, rhythmic, insistent, and, impossibly, gloriously, it began _again_.

She didn't know – hadn't the first clue – how long it continued, she knew only that when it finally stopped the two girls led her by the arms, half-supporting her on shaky legs to the rather cramped bed in the middle of the room. She let her legs give way as soon as she could do so without falling humiliatingly to the floor. She hated to even think what she looked like, especially to Weasley and Loony, of all people, who stood looking at her, smiling, unashamed. She was sure that her face and hair were a sweaty mess; her breasts were bare, her dress and bra pulled down almost to her waist; the skirt of her dress was rucked up to her bum, and her knickers – still miraculously in place – were drenched.

She shuffled in her place, simultaneously trying to pull her dress both down and up. She was breathing hard still, and she could feel a blush colour her face, could see it blooming pink across her chest, under the gaze of her, what? Tormentors? Even as she attempted to grasp at the tatters of her dignity Pansy couldn't even begin to see anything that told of spite in their faces. They were holding hands as they regarded her, Luna's head resting on Ginny's shoulder. Even Pansy couldn't deny how pretty they looked together, all red and blonde hair and flushed faces. Luna's eyes were fixed on Pansy's chest as she tried to cover herself, and she was smiling happily. Ginny looked Pansy full in the eye, her lip caught between her teeth.

“Well then,” Ginny said, after a few moments, if still a little too soon for Pansy to have regained her composure. “That was unexpected. I don't suppose we can put that down as you owing us one, can we? Something for you to think about while Malfoy does whatever it is he does?”

And that just did it. Pansy rose to her feet and she could tell that her already red face had darkened even further. For all the time she had taken to rearrange her clothing she may as well not have bothered. Her bra barely covered her nipples and her dress was slipping towards her waist.

“Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You think just because you can make me come you're better than Draco? You think I should be grateful to you?” She could see, in both their faces, that she'd given herself away. Ginny's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. Luna wasn't smiling; she looked at Pansy with a sympathy so open, so sincere, that Pansy couldn't stand to look at it. She stepped forward, reaching to grasp at the neck of Luna's ridiculous costume, and _pulled_. Luna stumbled forward, her hand still in Ginny's, her mouth a wordless 'O'. Their mouths collided so hard that Pansy's teeth ached; Ginny's “Hey,” – part shock, part amusement – was muffled by the sound of the blood pulsing in Pansy's ears and the low moans of satisfaction emanating from low in Luna's throat. She stumbled a little as Luna, ever so carefully, still responding with moist, open lips to her kiss, pushed her back towards the bed.

She could hardly follow what happened next, couldn't even have said who instigated it. She only knew that she was on her back in moments, lifting her bum so that Luna could pull her dress over it, cursing as it caught at her hips. Ginny's quick fingers worked at hooks and eyes; Pansy kicked off her own shoes; Luna poised, inhaling deeply, mere centimetres from the sodden material of Pansy's knickers before she yanked them down, so suddenly that, ridiculously, she was utterly shocked.

She was almost surprised to find herself naked then; on her back, staring with wide eyes and parted lips at the two girls as they carried out some sort of whispered negotiation.

“You're sure you don't mind?” Luna's voice, low but still clearly audible, reached Pansy's ears. The yellow of her hair blended easily into the flame of Ginny's, their heads were so close. Luna's eyes were fixed on Pansy's though, and they shone brightly.

Ginny raised Luna's hand – fingers still intertwined with her own – to her lips, placing a lazy kiss on it and masking any other response. Irritation finally broke through the languor that had rendered Pansy so helpless and, Merlin help her, compliant. And yet, she didn't sit up, didn't make any move at all except to fix them with her coolest, steeliest gaze. She ignored the niggling worry that her current position didn't lend itself well to hauteur.

“What the fuck, Loony? Aren't you going to ask whether _I_ mind?” Pansy snapped at her.

Luna's smile widened slightly, and Pansy could have counted Ginny's teeth through the grin she presented in response as she said, “Fuck's sake, Parkinson! Have you seen yourself? You're naked on your back with your legs open. Oh, and you're fucking soaked, by the way. If you mind, you've got a strange way of showing it.”

The battle was a brief one, her pride and dislike vying with the memory of their hands and mouths on her, and the incredible joy of her release. Weasley and Loony were hardly even trying to hide their eagerness, either. It was intoxicating.

“You know what, Weasley? That's fine. Think what you like, but you've got thirty seconds. If both of you aren't naked and over here by then, I'm leaving.” Pansy could barely concentrate for the throbbing between her legs, even as she bathed in the euphoria of her orgasm. She knew it was a bluff, and was just as sure that they did. They didn't call her on it, though. Their clothes were on the floor well within the allotted time. It wasn't exactly the sexiest strip that Pansy could have imagined yet she could feel herself getting wetter, hear her own breath catch, as more and more pale flesh was revealed. Gently swelling breasts and hardened nipples; toned bellies; flashes of red hair and blonde. A tiny part of her brain marvelled at her responses, comparing them to previous experiences. It explained a _lot_.

Pansy couldn't be surprised that Luna's first act in her newly naked state was to almost _inhale_ her nipple, nipping at it softly with her teeth and alternating long slow laps of her tongue. Her right hand rested lightly on her other breast, the pad of her thumb just grazing flesh that seemed, impossibly, to become even more erect in response. Pansy's head dropped, heavy as lead, her mouth widening in a shaky sigh. A blur of red and white floated before eyes that were hardly more than slits, a tongue flickered at her lips, and she found herself exhaling into another mouth, millimetres from her own.

Ginny's voice was the softest whisper, laughter dancing among the syllables, “You like that, don't you?”

It was all she could do to reply, “Fuck you, you fucking ginger bitch. If you want me, fucking have me, but don't expect me to be grateful.” It was the last gasp of her pride, but she knew her responses betrayed her and even as she said it she was beyond caring.

For all their enmity, for all that Pansy had done her best to make her life a misery, Ginny's kiss was achingly soft. No teeth, no taunting nips, just lips and tongue and hands that cradled her face, caressed her hair. It was almost too much when a fourth hand – Luna's, of course – began to pitter-patter up and down her left side, the slightest drag of her fingernails over her ribs and waist, ghosting over the flare of her hips. It was as if all her anger and bitterness were being drawn out of her by the ministrations of these two she had taunted, who were demonstrating nothing but gentleness, consideration. Amongst the maelstrom of her senses, Pansy felt tears spring to her eyes.

She whimpered into Ginny's mouth, hoping beyond all hope that the two others would attribute the sound to the effect of one or other of Luna's eagerly travelling hands, her flickering tongue, or the catch of her teeth on ever more sensitive flesh. Heat radiated from her cunt. There were so many fingers and, well, a _sufficiency_ of tongues, and god, none of them in the right place. She pressed her legs together, rubbing them quick and hard in her desperation. Luna clearly felt the movement and, smiling against a nipple, she traced her fingers from Pansy's breast, stopping short and pausing teasingly for a moment. Pansy's whimper was even more desperate this time, and she forced her till now motionless hands to grasp at the _irritating_ girl's wrist, pushing it firmly downwards.  
It was Luna's turn to moan now and, when a slim finger sliding inside her, followed almost immediately by a second, caused Pansy to cry out, Luna's mouth ceased its play long enough to speak, “Oh, _Pansy_. You've waited so long, haven't you? You poor thing.”

Pansy couldn't respond to the unwelcome sympathy. She was too busy responding to Ginny, their lips a dialogue that sought for understanding amongst near irreconcilable differences. Weasley, it turned out, was a fucking good kisser.

Luna was not to be ignored, however, and after the briefest moment of stillness, allowing Pansy to get used to the feeling, familiar yet _so_ different, she curled her fingers, _just_ so. Pansy's eyes flew open, all the air in her lungs expelling itself into Ginny's mouth, as a pulse of sheer pleasure jolted through her. She canted her hips upwards, forcing herself hard against Luna's hand. Luna was humming against Pansy's nipple, her left hand curled around Pansy's hip, pushing against her eagerness. She began to move her fingers in slow, smooth strokes, sliding them easily through Pansy's wetness, making her gasp into Ginny's mouth as they filled her, again and again.

There was no room in Pansy's head for anything so pedestrian as thought now; she was pure feeling, every part of her body a luxury of sensation. Fingers and hands and tongues and lips played her, and it was all she could do to keep herself from being utterly overwhelmed by her own want. She hardly registered the tickle of Luna's hair as her lips released her nipple, to be replaced almost immediately by Ginny's hand. Luna's tongue traced a delicate line down Pansy's stomach, her hand releasing her hip, until – oh _God_ – she felt hot breath stir the hair between her legs and, moments afterwards, a single slow lap over her clit.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Pansy bucked against Luna's mouth, her eyes rolling back in her head, and, as Luna began to lick (slow, hard, _relentless_ ), her fingers miraculously maintaining their rhythm, Pansy's whole body began to shake. It was an act of pure will to push Ginny's mouth from her own, but she somehow managed it.

“Fuck, Ginny,” she said, in a quick, almost pained, whisper, “I want to taste you. Please, just … _fuck_.”

A simultaneous lick and curl stole her voice, her mouth falling open, her cunt clenching around Luna's fingers, yet still, with arms that seemed robbed of strength, she pulled Ginny's shoulders upwards, guiding her, desperately hoping for understanding.

Ginny smiled impishly at her, her lips moist and a little swollen, her eyes laughing.

“Whatever you want, Pansy. You're the boss.”

It was the first demand that Pansy had ever heard her comply to, and her enthusiasm was admirable. Within seconds, her knees framed Pansy's face, her cunt poised above her mouth; Pansy could smell Ginny's desire, heavy and sweet in her nostrils as she hovered above her, leaning forward just a little to brush her fingers over Panys's nipples. If Pansy had _ever_ thought about it she wouldn't have believed that she would have found the sight beautiful, and yet she almost wanted to stop Ginny when she lowered herself gently onto Pansy's lips, her eager waiting tongue. She moved with a leisurely roll of her hips, moaning as Pansy licked her, flicking at her clit as each backward motion brought it within reach. Pansy grasped at Ginny's thighs, pulling her downwards onto her mouth, moaning into her cunt, her own moans counterpointed and contrasted by Ginny's squealing gasps, by Luna's contented humming that Pansy could only feel as a soft vibration against her clit.

Pansy had had images of how this evening would turn out. They mostly began with a little too much firewhiskey-spiked pumpkin juice and continued with any number of unwanted kisses. She had envisaged that, at some point in the evening, Draco would be spending at least a little time hovering, uncomfortably and unsatisfyingly above her, before he crept away, leaving her to spend most of the night soothing her pain, numbering her regrets.

Pansy came for the second time, shuddering, beyond all control, Luna's tongue unceasing on her clit, her fingers deep inside, soothing her, _claiming_ her; Ginny riding her mouth, joyous and _so_ loud. Pansy's own cries, muffled between Ginny's thighs, sounded loudly in her own ears.

Luna eased her down, fingers and tongue slowing, whispering sweet nothings that only she could comprehend and, as Pansy's senses and breath returned, she redoubled and refocused her efforts on the girl above her. Her face was slick with Ginny, each and every sense absorbed in her.

She barely even noticed the movement between her legs, the sudden weight and slickness and heat against her thigh. Luna bucked against her, seeking her own release, with soft cries that were easily drowned by Ginny's louder ones before they were swallowed further as the two bodies above her fell into a greedy kiss.

Oh no, never in a century of centuries would Pansy Parkinson have predicted _this_. She found that she couldn't regret the failure of her prediction.

Weasley and Loony – the dirt-poor ginger and the lunatic blonde – rode her to their own loud, sweaty, joyful orgasms. Merlin help her, Pansy relished it. Though they used her in their own way, still she had never felt so included, so appreciated. When finally they rolled off her, happy and sated, they lay to her left and right, heads snuggled on her shoulder, struggling to fit 3 people on a single bed. They drifted contentedly in the afterglow, Luna absent-mindedly playing with one of Pansy's breasts, Ginny tracing shapes on her belly with the lightest of touches. Pansy felt that even those simple movements were beyond her, so she just lay there, basking in the simple joy of their undemanding attention. When Luna kissed her, licking at her lips hungrily, satisfied little moans in her throat, Pansy tasted herself on Luna's lips. She knew that Luna could taste Ginny in her kiss, on her face, knew that it was reflected affection, but for the moment she didn't care. The Pansy who had entered this room – how long ago? – was elsewhere; the one that answered Luna's kiss, eager and affectionate, was a person she had thought long gone.

“Right, ladies,” Ginny's voice broke the moment, bringing Pansy back to herself. Luna pulled away, licking her lips and smiling, almost bashfully. She flushed prettily. “I think we've got some things we need to talk about.”

She hopped off the bed to retrieve a rather odd-looking box-like contraption from the wall, just next to the door. Pansy's mental processes finally caught up with themselves as Ginny released a catch, lifting a sheaf of – no, oh fuck, just _no_.

Pansy sat up, swearing, “What the fuck, Weasley? You fucking didn't...” She felt the contentment draining away from her in a heartbeat. Luna made a soothing noise, stroking her side.

“Hey, Parkinson, keep your hair on.” Ginny was smiling, her hair a mess; still naked. Pansy struggled to see her as a threat, and yet… “We just figured you might want some souvenirs, yeah?”

Ginny was leafing through the pictures as she spoke. She stopped at one, wincing. Luna scampered off the bed, eager to see, leaving Pansy alone, her heart sinking. Luna peered at the top picture, her eyes wide.

“You can't even see Pansy's face in that one. She could be anyone,” she said, rather matter-of-fact.

“Yes, Lu. That's because I'm sitting on it,” Ginny said with a grimace. She moved to put it to the back of the pile, clearly unwilling to look at it further. Luna took her wrist, kissing her shoulder.

“You look beautiful. Like a nymph,” she whispered, and it was Ginny who flushed now.

Pansy, looking on, felt a flutter in her belly, an aching in her chest. She lay there in silence and felt the loneliness crashing back in on her.

“So,” Ginny said, when she could speak again. “Here's the thing. You seem determined to screw us over. So we thought maybe these could persuade you not to. You know, you get a set, we get a set? If you ever feel the need to share them, we all go down together. Fair?”

“And they can be a memento, too,” Luna said, staring at one of the pictures with frank admiration in her eyes, coming closer to let Pansy see. “You're so lovely, Pansy. Too lovely to waste yourself on someone like Draco.”

Luna reached out, almost stroking her cheek, but Pansy pushed her away, her eyes prickling. _Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry_. She sought for the ever-faithful barbed comment, only to find it lacking.

“Just leave me alone, will you? And don't you dare tell me who I should see.” There was no steel in her voice. Even to herself, she just sounded tired.

Ginny and Luna dressed in silence. They left Pansy alone to collect herself, a stack of pictures on the bed beside her and the ghost of their parting kisses on her cheeks, Ginny's last words sounding over and over in her ears – “Smile. It's gonna be ok. _You're_ going to be ok.”

**

Pansy Parkinson paused at the door to the Great Hall, breathing slow, calming breaths. She glanced one final time at the picture in her hand (Ginny Weasley kneeling over her, eyes closed, mouth open; abandoned, ecstatic), kissed it and smiled.

Three people watched her as she walked back to the feast, the picture of unflustered grace. She nodded at Draco, her lips set, but when Ginny and Luna smiled at her, their glasses raised, she couldn't help herself. Pansy grinned.

All in all, the night had turned out rather better than she had predicted.  



End file.
